


Dragon Age 100

by speedgriffon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Foreplay, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 short ficlets based on the Tumblr meme Dragon Age 100. Multiple pairings, characters and tags included. Will update the warnings and tags as I update. (Some fics will be NSFW)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Cullen x Female Trevelyan

The Temple of Sacred Ashes still stood—long after the Conclave explosion, after the destruction of Haven, after being used as grounds for a final confrontation with Corypheus. The floor of the temple was still scared, smoldered ash seeping off the earth in little wisps; like a fire that could never be put out.

It was a fitting imagery for the way Aurelie felt standing on the sacred land, the clear and open sky reminding her that the war was over, and that the threat had passed. And yet, there were still so many unanswered questions. Since closing the breach, months ago now, she had traveled back and forth between the ruins and Skyhold, always thinking she’d find a new clue as to  _why_  or  _how_  this happened.

She was standing just outside the temple’s main corridor when she heard rocks and rubble shift, careful footsteps nearing her. Aurelie glanced to find Cullen slowly approaching with his head tilted back to look at the evening sky. He had made the journey with her, this time, and she was glad for the company.

“You know…” Cullen blinked, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he flicked his gaze to her. “This is where we first met.”

Aurelie had to remind herself, recalling the events of that first day out of imprisonment. “The fade rift.” She started, continuing when Cullen nodded, stepping closer. “There were so many demons.”

“I was cornered, my men were injured—you just appeared, like out of thin air.” He smirked then, shaking his head in disbelief. “Covered in blood and dirt and snow and still…”

“What?” Aurelie prompted when he trailed off, his eyes scanning her face. She felt herself grow warm under his intense stare.

“ _Maker’s breath_  Aurelie, you were a sight to behold.” Cullen laughed under his breath. “Beautiful, confident—you smiled at me.”

Aurelie couldn’t help but feel bashful, raising one of her hands to hide the grin that was developing on her face. Cullen instantly reached up to take her hand, linking their fingers, shuffling himself even closer.

“I fell for you the moment I saw you.” He confessed.

For all the reasons she had come to this ruined temple, she did not expect to hear these words. She expected a hint on the broken orb, on where Solas might have disappeared. Instead, she discovered something a little more intimate, not just about Cullen, but also about herself. As he told her, she found herself back in that moment, remembering the way he had offered encouraging words, glancing in her direction, even as others spoke. She thought,  _me too_ , realizing that the beginning of her role as Inquisitor had also been the start of  _them_.  


	2. Love

It had been days now since he told her, since he confessed and bared his soul to her. And while Evelyn had been receptive, accepting his feelings and admitting her own, she had left out three  _little_  words that Alistair had been dying to hear. Not that he wasn’t happy—he was just under the impression that when somebody told another person they  _loved_  them, said person should say it back.

But he wouldn’t rush Evelyn in any way. He would still tell her at every chance he was given, even if she only offered a bashful smile in return. He understood her apprehension, even if it was agonizing to wait. Instead he focused on the ways she said it through actions; adjusting his hair after a skirmish with bandits, buying him a roll of cheese in the Redcliffe market, sharing his bedroll during a cold night.

They had yet to be  _fully_  intimate, but he was already familiar with the warmth her body gave off when she slept next to him, tucked under his arm and against his chest. Her fingers would twitch against the laces that lay at the top of his sleep-tunic, breath fanning out in wisps around his neck. Since they had started this part of their relationship, he trained his body to stay awake a little longer, if only to watch her fall asleep and to memorize more parts of her face and body.

“ _Al—_ mmmstair.” He had learned, fairly quickly, that she talked, or at least mumbled in her sleep. “ _Rhymes with bear_.”

He smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to her forehead. With one hand he pulled away her hair from her neck and face, gently trailing a few fingers across her skin.

“Yes darling, it does.” He whispered. “Now sleep- I love you.”

“ _Love you_ … _too_.”

Alistair felt his heart soar out of his chest, his eyes widening as her quiet and muffled words echoed in his mind. A quick glance to her face told him she was deep in-sleep, her lips parted slightly as she breathed. He couldn’t hold back from grinning, wrapping his arms a little tighter around her as he kissed her brow once more, this time with more force. While he couldn’t wait for her to tell him the same words while she was in the waking world, he would take the confession she offered now. He loved her, and she loved him.


	3. Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Blood and violence

“There it is! The Temple of Mythal!”

Aurelie struggled to hear Morrigan’s voice over the chaos of the battle that she was witnessing. They had walked a miles through the forest, destroying whatever Red Templar camps they found, but she never expected to find  _this_. Corrupted Grey Wardens, brainwashed mages of the Venatori and the Red behemoths all in one place,  _all_  blocking her path to the temple.

In the middle of it all, she found her Inquisition soldiers, and their Commander. _Her_  Commander. Cullen was swinging his sword in large arches, pushing back enemies with the sharp end of his shield. How he had managed to keep them at bay for so long without support was beyond her, but not unbelievable—the man was a force to be reckoned with when the threat was  _this_  urgent.

She dashed ahead, slicing through a shade along the way as she entered the fray at his side. He glanced, momentarily to acknowledge her, his expression focused but wary. 

“Keep going! I’ll be fine!”

His words barely registered in her ears, her mind instantly ignoring them. As if she would abandon him in a fight, especially knowing he’d been out here for who knew how long, not sleeping a wink since leaving their tent two days prior. She would not leave until he was safe, until they were all safe; even if it meant losing precious time getting to the temple.

Between them came another Warden, and she grunted as the soldier pushed her to the side. The soldier punched Cullen in the jaw, staggering him backwards on unstable feet. Before Aurelie could react, the man brought up his sword, and brought it down with full force, wedging it between the gaps in Cullen’s armor at his shoulder.

Her rage bubbled over at the sight—Cullen fell back, his expression contorted in pain as he crumbled to the ground. Aurelie reached out and grabbed the man by the back, gritting her teeth as her gauntleted hand dug through the leather and fabric. She saw blood seeping at her fingertips, but only gripped tighter before tossing him aside, twirling a dagger from her waist through skilled fingers before stabbing him in the chest.

She had no time to react, to even glance to see where Cullen had ended up, if he was even still  _alive_. Instead, more enemies charged at her, thinking she must be compromised. But no, if anything, all she saw was red, all she felt was fire burning in her chest—she would not lose, not today. She grabbed at the flasks at her belt, tossing them at the feet of several Red Templars, almost laughing as they were engulfed in flame. When one charged through the wall of fire, she met him, daggers thrown to the side as she slammed her fist to his cheek, gripping his armor tight as they toppled to the ground. She straddled the delirious soldier, blind fury gripping her as she wrapped her hands around his throat, squeezing until she saw blood dripping from his lips.

When she was finished, and the last enemy fell, she whipped around, eyes wide as she searched for Cullen. Her heart was still hammering, blood burning with a rage she couldn’t describe. She found him right where he had fallen, several healers, including Dorian already tending to his wound. Aurelie was at his side in an instant, but he held up a palm to stop her, pointing back towards the Temple. When she frowned, he breathed a smile, even as his eyes fell closed.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” He mumbled. “Use that anger.”

And she would.  


	4. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW- light foreplay

Alistair took in a deep breath as his other senses adjusted, becoming heightened by his lack of vision. Evelyn had secured the blindfold with a firm knot, leaving the world around him dark. Somewhere in front of him, she was undressing, and all he wanted was to see her, or at least help her. He hardly thought this was what his first time  _touching_  her would be like. He understood that she wanted to take it slow, but had no idea she was so… _insecure_. Still, Alistair wouldn’t go against her wishes. After all, she trusted him, and only him to do this.

“Evelyn?” He prompted, blindly reaching out for her.

A somewhat shaky hand met his, fingers tugging him closer until he felt the heat of her body near his. He cursed the stipulation that he was to remain clothed, but reminded himself- _slow_ ,  _her_ pace, not his. If he had his way, he would ravage her, all while reminding her of how much he loved her, how she didn’t need to hide away from him. Evelyn brought his hand to her stomach and Alistair sucked in a breath, the soft bare skin he found there a sharp contrast to his calloused fingers. Evelyn’s breathing was already labored as he trailed his fingers upwards, his thumb swiping along the skin beneath her breast.

“Is-it alright?” He asked tentatively.

Quiet followed, and then a nervous laugh before she hummed her approval. Alistair was still slow to move his hand to her breast, a sharp intake of breath on her lips as he cupped both in each hand. He could feel his smile spreading, but bit his tongue, not wanting to appear as some teenaged lecher only after one thing. Though, he  _was_  after her pleasure. If this was how she wanted it, this first time, he was determined to at least make it nice for her.

He rolled her breasts in her hand, soft movements as she arched to his touch, her hands reaching out to grasp his shoulders. Alistair was encouraged by the soft gasp she let escape, and brushed his thumbs across her nipples, squeezing them a few times until they were pert. As he leaned down, he sighed as her hands moved to guide him, allowing him to wrap his lips around one and suck, gently until her gasp turned into a moan.

“A- _Alistair_ …” Her voice was wavering, still unsure and he pulled away, perking up his brows.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, straining himself—it would be torture to do so, but he would stop if she wanted. Evelyn’s hands drifted to his wrists and brought them away from her chest, and for a moment he pouted. That was, until, she took one hand, Alistair’s body heating as his fingers danced along a wetness he could only guess was coming from the juncture of her thighs.

“N-no.” Evelyn removed her hands from his and shifted closer, arms wrapping around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Alistair was apprehensive to move his hand, but did so a moment later, dragging the longest of his fingers along her slit, shivering at the dampness of her arousal. She was panting in his ear, fingers tightly gripping his tunic. He continued teasing her, learning just where to touch to make her respond in the most delightful ways. When he found a small bundle of nerves, he pressed his thumb along it, ears burning as she moaned, loudly.

“ _Maker’s breath_.” He sighed, circling his thumb again to coax another moan from her lips.

Evelyn whimpered as he continued, tugging him to walk with her until he felt her fall away, pulling him over her at the end of the bed. He adjusted himself, next to her, one hand between her thighs as he pressed a finger along her folds again, testing her entrance before pressing a digit inside. The sensation had him hard, and it took all of him not to roll his hips along her side—it wasn’t about him at all right now. Just Evelyn.

He added another finger, all the while rolling his thumb along her clit. He wondered if he was even doing this right, but figured he must have been, considering how much noise she was making. Evelyn’s hips rolled to meet his ministrations and he turned his head, seeking out her face, wanting to kiss her. A few fingers danced along his chin before he found her lips, mouth molding around his as he swallowed another moan. He pulled away, briefly, slowing his movements as he sensed she was closing in on her climax.

“Let me see you, love.” He breathed; blindly lowering his head back to steal a kiss. His lips met her cheek and he went with it, trailing down to her ear. “Evelyn, I want to see you come.”

She shivered, hands on his face twitching as she whimpered once more.

“ _Please_.”

Finally, her hands tugged at the blindfold and Alistair blinked hard, adjusting his eyes to the soft light filling the room from the fireplace. Evelyn was blushing, breathing labored as her eyes danced away from his. He continued moving his hands, never breaking away from staring at her face. He could look at her body later; right now, he wanted to see her expression. Right now, he wanted to see the woman he loved, the woman he worshiped and what she looked like when he gave her this gift of pleasure. With one final rub and thrust of his fingers she arched her head back, eyes shut tightly as she cried out, arms wrapping tightly around him as she shook.

As she settled, he pulled his hands away, grabbing at the sheet to cover her up, not before stealing one glance at her perfect body. He would have to remind himself to study it later, when she was more willing. Right now, as she curled herself to his chest, a content smile pulling at her lips, he was more than willing to wait.


	5. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW, oral sex, Cullen going to town on the Inquisitor ;)

At dawn Cullen awoke, lips already twisting into a devious grin when he saw who still occupied his bed. Aurelie was practically sprawled out on her back, arms up and framing her face, lips slightly parted as she slept. It did nothing for his mood that the blankets had shifted, exposing her naked chest.

He drew in a sharp breath, knowing he should just roll over, feign sleep with her for a few more minutes; after all, at sunrise, she would need to leave. But the temptation that lay in front of him was too strong, especially as she mewled under her breath, a whisper of his name on her lips. It was his undoing. Cullen shifted himself beneath the covers, pressing his weight onto one side as he leaned over her.

At first, he was unsure if what he was about to do was at all appropriate, before recalling the way he had awoken in the middle of the night to her mouth around him, half-asleep but determined to bring him to pleasure. His mind made up his decision for him, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before shifting down. Aurelie was a deep sleeper, especially here in Skyhold,  _especially_  after nights when they reunited. Cullen made his mission then to see how easy or difficult it would be to wake her with just his mouth and hands.

His kisses drifted downwards, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, her collarbone and sternum. He glanced up only to see her lips closing in a little hum, head turning slightly. He continued—kissing the valley between her breasts before bringing his free hand up to cup her breast. Aurelie’s breathing hitched, and he noted the small shift in her body, back arching in the tiniest way to his touch. With a smile, he brushed a nipple with a calloused thumb, holding back his smirk when she softly moaned behind closed lips. There was a crease in her forehead as he licked along her breasts, taking a nipple between his lips before gently scraping his teeth across the sensitive flesh. He could only wonder what she was dreaming about in the Fade.

And then it happened—the anchor in her hand burst with energy, the hissing sound nearly toppling Cullen over in surprise. The green glow filled the room as it shined out, and yet, she remained asleep. He tested the waters, figuratively speaking, and leaned back over her, watching the light in her hand cautiously as he continued where he left off. Cullen pulled the sheets further down, the edges resting along her knees as he shifted himself between her legs.

He ran his tongue along her stomach, dipping a few times into her navel before sweeping further down. At his actions, the anchor flared, a burst of energy filling the space around him. Perhaps, he thought, his actions in the waking world were having an affect on her as she slept. His ego thoroughly stroked, confidence soaring, he shifted himself further down the bed, fanning his breath along her center as he pushed her thighs apart.

Aurelie whimpered then, and he glanced up under his lashes to see her eyes fluttering open, her lips parting once more as she gasped. Her eyes darted at first to her hand, before she looked down at him, expression a mix of confusion and wonder. He paused, raising a brow as if to silently ask her permission, only lowering his lips to her folds as she nodded once.

She inhaled sharply as he kissed her slit, pressing his nose to her clit as he ran the tip of his tongue along it, opening her to him.  _Maker_ , he silently cursed, she must’ve been dreaming of something wonderful to be so wet already. He used the flat of his tongue to run up, flicking the tip against her most sensitive bundle of nerves.

“ _Cullen_.” Her voice was hazy with sleep, but her passion was there, encouraging him to continue.

The anchor sputtered once more as he made gradual circles with his tongue, making sure to coat her clit with her own arousal and his saliva. She made sure to drag that hand as far away, the magic sometimes too powerful for her own good. It found purchase in the wood grain of his headboard, her other hand snapping down to grip at his hair. Her fingers wound tightly into his curls and he only grinned, pressing himself closer to her core as he changed his pace, wanting nothing more than to  _gorge_.

Cullen allowed a rumble in his chest to pour from his lips, the reverberation causing Aurelie to buck her hips up, a series of moans and whispers falling from her. He glanced up again to find her eyes locked on his movements, chest heaving with every labored breath. He continued; lapping at her with his tongue, darting the tip inside of her before tracing her folds to her clit over and over again. Her grip was tight, thighs pushing against his temples in a delightful hint that she was close.

Right about now, under any other circumstances, he would add his hand to the mix, wanting to bring her to her climax as fast as he could, but he refrained. Instead, he added more pressure, using the bridge of his nose to press against her as he  _ate_  her, wishing he could have this as a regular meal every morning. Cullen laughed at his poorly made joke, and Aurelie bucked again, the sensation driving her closer.

“Right there—right,  _ooh.”_

 

She cried, words broken as she threw her head back, legs tightening around his neck and head as her core pulsed around his lips. Her back arched, hips lifting slightly off the mattress and her hand;  _Andraste preserve him_ , her hand. The anchor sputtered wildly with magic, green light filling all corners of his room in an eerie glow as she came. He wondered if it was possible for her to suck them into the Fade in her delirious pleasure. And then he realized, he really wouldn’t mind. Cullen Rutherford; sucked into the Fade for giving his lover the best pleasure she ever knew. He was getting ahead of himself and laughed again as he pulled away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Aurelie was struggling to catch her breath, eyes closed tight as her hand relaxed, the anchor slowly closing as she came down from her high. Cullen crawled back over her, resting himself next to her as he rubbed affectionate circles along her shoulders.

“Maker,  _what was that_?” She breathed, snapping her head in his direction. He could only smirk.

“Payback.”


	6. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Cullen x Female Amell (Flashback)

_“Who and when was your first kiss?” Aurelie asked._

Solona Amell—named for the sun, or so Cullen guessed, when he was first introduced to her; she would be one of his charges, the first civil faced-mage he had met when he arrived in Kinloch Hold. Her name was fitting for her features; short golden blonde hair with fringe that fell across her forehead, pale grey eyes that reminded him of the stormy sky. To say she wasn’t beautiful would be a lie, and perhaps a sin in itself.

But Cullen would never tell her that, of course. Yes, it was because of the age-old rule that  _he_  was a Templar, and  _she_  was a mage. But it was also because whenever she was near, offering that sweet smile, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. He would stutter over words, pause too long after a question and focused far too heavily on the way her curves swayed beneath her mage robes. She was beautiful, and he was  _hopeless_.  

_“A woman in the Fereldan circle…” he trailed. “I was eighteen.”_

And yet, Cullen found himself forming a certain kind of…friendship with Solona, spending more time with her than any other one of his charges. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was infatuated by her, never thinking that when he committed his life to the Templars that he would ever feel this way about a woman, a mage.

Over time, their conversations started to take more flirtatious tones; Solona would slowly blink up at him, her smile more bashful as she drew herself as close as he was comfortable with. As much as he  _wanted_  to, it would never be appropriate to cross that line. She understood, but  _Maker_  did she love to test the boundaries.

_“A mage, she had just passed her harrowing, we had always been friendly…”_

Cullen had been present at Solona’s Harrowing, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he was sure it was echoing against his armor. When she awoke, he breathed a sigh of relief, before helping her walk on shaky feet back to her quarters. His arm had been wrapped around her shoulders for support, hers tucked around his waist to steady herself. The action did nothing to steady his heartbeat.

The apprentice quarters she shared with a few other females was empty; dinner was still being served two floors below, and it didn’t take long for Cullen to take notice of their privacy. As he helped Solona sit down in her bed, he lingered; something he would regret and cherish at the same time later on.

Solona’s hands reached to frame his face, fingers sliding against his temples and through his curls. Before he could react, she turned his face towards hers, lips slanting over his in a soft kiss. Cullen widened his eyes, his body going stiff in shock. Her eyes were closed, fingers spreading through his hair as she attempted to draw him closer. She hummed into the kiss, pressing her lips closer and it was his undoing. He kissed back, leaning down at an awkward angle, blushing at the moan she coaxed from his throat as her tongue lightly lapped at his bottom lip.

And then she pulled away, eyes shining with a sparkle of joy, cheeks tinted pink. Cullen was equal parts embarrassed and  _happy_. His first kiss— _Andraste preserve him_ —with a woman he…

_“I liked her, she liked me- one kiss is all we got before…”_

The Hero of Fereldan came, and then she was gone. The mages in the tower had been saved, Uldred defeated and lying in a heap of abominations. But Cullen was not satisfied. His ears were still ringing, and with every blink, all he saw was blood—his friends slaughtered in front of him, images of torture and memories he couldn’t tell were real or imagined.

He sat, in the corner of the entrance, a blank stare on his face as survivors were gathered, those who were  _healthy_  enough used to at least begin to gather the dead. Cullen didn’t mean to watch, knowing it would be painful. He should’ve looked away; he should’ve been escorted out of the tower when they were gathering the other surviving Templars. But he didn’t leave. He sat, and watched in horror, the world around him slowing to a halt as another cot with another deceased passed by.

Golden hair, matted with blood, grey eyes dull and vacant, staring at nothing—it was Solona. She was covered in blood, the edges of her fingertips singed with fire and Cullen  _knew_  she had fought,  _knew_  she had died resisting. And yet, he couldn’t admit that she  _was_  dead. He closed his eyes tightly, tears burning the corners of his eyes. He pushed them away, turning his sorrow into anger. It was her kind that caused this, and he would never allow himself to trust them again.

 _“Do you have any regrets_?”  _Aurelie asked_.

Yes, Cullen had thought, but kept it to himself, just as he still hid away his memories. Even a decade later, the wounds were too fresh, and he would not risk telling her. Not yet. He regretted much in his life, he wanted to say; his hatred, the way he turned a blind eye in Kirkwall. But perhaps his biggest regret was not mourning Solona’s death in that moment, and taking years to admit to himself and the Maker that he had been wrong.

When he finally told Aurelie, poured out his soul for her to see, he was met with compassion, understanding. She did not blame him; soft hand taking his as she pulled him into a warm embrace. She loved him, for all his faults, for all his mistakes and reminded him that he was a better man for living through them. And when he was falling asleep with her, Aurelie’s body tucked closely to his, he finally realized—he had been forgiven.


	7. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairing; just angst- and an alternate universe.

The shackles around her wrists weighed heavy as they pushed her up the staircase, the anchor in her hand burning with every step they took closer into the great hall. Her body was tired, her soul had left her months ago. She thought it was over; the war, the threat, the Inquisition’s need of her power.

From the very beginning she had been used as a tool, as a prisoner of war, only being dragged from the dungeons to seal rifts and to occasionally be used as a pawn in the grand scheme of things. There was no sympathy for the survivor of the Conclave, there was no sympathy for Justinia’s murderer. She expected now that there would be no sympathy for the person who had just saved the world from destruction.

A soldier pushed her to her knees, and she only glanced up at the gathered panel of jurors; the Commander, the Ambassador, the Spymaster turned Divine. She would not give them the chance to see the emptiness in her eyes.

“Aurelie Trevelyan.” A voice rang out, one she hardly recognized. She didn’t care, she knew what was coming. “You have been brought before the Inquisition leaders to face judgment for your crimes against the Chantry.”

 _A little late_. She thought. She didn’t respond. She had learned long ago that arguing got her nowhere.

“Your recent actions have benefited the Inquisition greatly…” The speaker trailed, but she only rolled her eyes. “It is unanimous that we grand you a full pardon.”

Her breath left her, and she snapped her eyes up at those standing in front of her. It wasn’t fair, to be forgiven  _now_ , after all she had been through. If she were innocent, they sure had a strange way of showing it. She was bitter, and as her emotions flared, so did the anchor.

“A  _pardon_?” She yelled, pushing herself to her feet, ignoring the way many soldiers armed themselves. She laughed then, almost manically as she felt the power within her surge.

She didn’t hesitate a moment to release all her energy, tearing open the Fade before her with her anchor. It was a power she had discovered after Haven, but kept secret, knowing it would be her escape sooner or later. As green light filled the room, the rift she created spilling more demons than she could count, she could only sink back to her knees, her laughter ebbing away as chaos consumed her.

“ _To the Void_ with your pardon.”


	8. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: King Alistair x Evelyn Cousland

Evelyn’s heart was racing in her chest as she glanced over herself in the mirror. She had been awake for hours now, but was nowhere ready for what was about to happen. In a few short hours, she would be walking down to the Denerim chantry, not only to marry the man of her dreams, but also to take the crown as Fereldan’s Queen.

As excited as she was to be married to Alistair, the responsibility that was looming over her head once she took on the crown so close to crashing around her. She was scared, afraid she would mess up; her luck had to run out sometime. Evelyn continued to search her own face, trying to convince herself she could do this, that backing out now would be cowardice. This day marked where her life would change forever—perhaps it was normal to feel scared.

The door to her chambers slowly opened and she turned, ready to shoo away her ladies-in-waiting once more. She still wasn’t ready for them to start molding her into the picturesque bride. Instead, she saw the familiar light-brown hair peeking through, Alistair’s eyes avoidant as he entered halfway.

“Are you decent?” He asked. Evelyn nervously laughed a yes but found herself shaking her head as he entered, flicking his gaze to her.

“Alistair! You can’t!” She watched as he rolled his eyes. “It’s bad luck to see me before the wedding.” 

“Well it’s a good thing you aren’t in your dress!” He paused, eyes lingering on the bare skin her slip didn’t cover, before gulping. “Maybe.”

“ _Alistair_.” Evelyn warned him, her tone unchanged. His appearance only made her more nervous. Especially seeing him half-dressed in his ceremonial garb, rich hues of red and gold extenuating his eyes and features.

“Your hand-maidens said you kicked them out of the bridal suite.” He popped up his brows. “Is…everything all right?”

Evelyn sighed, closing her eyes as she turned away from him. “No—not really.”

“Wh—what do you mean?” Evelyn immediately regretted telling the truth at the alarm that laced his words. She knew it would happen too, but Alistair made it so hard for her to lie—not that she would. She could never lie to him.

“I’m  _nervous_ , Alistair.” She swallowed hard, shifting her eyes slowly up his body until she met his eyes. The casual expression he carried into her room had now morphed into anxiety, his fingers folding around one another in worry.

“About…marrying me?” He asked, eyes lowering in defeat. Evelyn was quick to stand from her bureau, hands reaching to his shoulders. Alistair glanced up, eyebrows arched, but there was still a pout on his lips.

“Maker, Alistair,  _no_!” She felt her heart race for the moment it took him to breath a sigh of relief. “I’m not nervous about that. I’m thrilled, and can’t wait to be your wife.” She smiled, noting the little glimmer of delight that flashed across his features. She waited until his eyes locked with hers before continuing. “It’s that I don’t know if I’m ready to be Queen.”

“What are you talking about?” Alistair’s eyes widened, his hands rising to rest atop hers. “You’ll make a wonderful Queen!” He breathed a laugh, sliding his hands up her arms before resting them around her waist. Evelyn sighed, his warmth calming her nerves, if only for a moment.

“You’re certain they’ll receive me?” She pursed her lips in thought. “I’m just a Cousland…not a very important name—”

“Names’ got nothing to do with this.” Alistair interrupted, and leaned in to kiss her, pecking her lips. “And even if it did, you’re the Hero of Fereldan!” He kissed her again. “You saved Fereldan from a blight, killed a few dragons, saved some more people from terrible ends and…well, you saved me.”

Evelyn grinned at the blush that appeared on his cheeks. She hoped that no matter how many years they had waiting for them; he’d never lose that adorable quirk.

“You’ve earned this. If anything, they don’t deserve you.” Alistair pressed another kiss to her lips, this time lingering as he pulled her in close. “I certainly don’t—“

It was her turn to interrupt him. “You do. I love you Alistair.” She breathed; her worries ebbed away by his encouraging words. It didn’t take a lot for him to help her feel better. “Thank you.”

Alistair held her for another moment longer, his eyes searching her face, as his smile grew even larger.

“Maker’s  _breath_ ; I am a lucky man.” It wasn’t the first time he had said it. His hands drifted a little further down her hips until she shot him a warning glance.

“ _Alistair_ …” She warned him again, but this time with a hint of teasing. He sighed, kissing one final kiss to her lips.

“You should get ready, my love.” Alistair laughed against her mouth. “If I kiss you any more, we’ll never make it to the ceremony.”

Hours later, when they left the chantry as man and wife, as King and Queen, she had trouble remembering what had made her so nervous to begin with. As the adoring public greeted them with cheers and applause, she felt her confidence soar. She’d never doubt herself again.


	9. Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: King Alistair x Evelyn Cousland

Alistair stood, impatient as he stared ahead at the shrine of Andraste, waiting as calmly as he could for the procession music to begin. He felt like he had been waiting a lifetime for this moment; no matter how short of a time he had known, and fallen in love with Evelyn Cousland, he felt that it was always written in his destiny for them to meet, that he would find his wife and future with her.

 

His breath caught in his throat as the music softly began, and he sharply turned, eyes widening at the sight of her in the chantry doorway, one arm linked with that of her brother, Fergus. It was hard to see her face from behind the traditional veil, but her head was tilted up—she was looking right back at him.

 

The dress she wore was _breathtaking_ ; dark royal blue with soft forest green accents. Highever colors, it had been _his_ idea, to show the land that despite being a Warden, like him, she had come from noble beginnings (unlike him) and was here to join his family as a Theirin. The reminder that she would take his name made his heart soar. It was as if he had completely forgotten how to think when she approached, his mind a jumbled mess of the wonderful realities of marriage.

 

Evelyn finally met him, fingers curling into his palm as he turned to greet her. It took all of him not to pull her towards him right then, the consequences of ravishing his beautiful bride in the Chantry something he didn’t mind. Instead he only smiled, feeling his cheeks sting in pain at how wide his grin became. Evelyn matched it, perhaps a little more bashfully, her cheeks tinting behind her transparent veil.

 

His hands shook as he pushed it away from her face, allowing his fingers to linger across the skin of her cheeks before pulling away. _Maker’s breath_ , he thought. Why did the ceremony have to last _so_ long?

 

Alistair hated not being able to face her during the service. His heart was racing, delightful anxiety crawling across his skin. He tapped his finger idly against his leg as they stood as they kneeled, their clasped hands the only contact allowed at this moment in time. He spoke his vows, or perhaps he stumbled over them, he wasn’t sure—he was still so focused on how beautiful she looked, how excited he was to become her husband, for Evelyn to become his wife.

 

And then the chantry mother blessed her, effectively awarding Evelyn her new title as Fereldan’s Queen. As soon as they rose up, he turned his head this time, his breath leaving him at the sight of her positively glowing with emotion. The circle crown rested across her temple, the silver and gems illuminating beneath the light of the room. To him, she looked like a divine creature, so beautiful and perfect and _his_.

 

The time came for him to face her, his hands wrapped around hers as she turned. Evelyn was smiling, but her eyes were brimmed with tears, and Alistair was overcome with emotion at the realization she was crying because she was happy. When he was finally able to kiss her, sealing their marriage, he poured himself into her, silently repeating his vows as she slanted her lips, allowing the kiss to become as passionate as it could beneath the eyes of the Maker.

 

When they pulled away from one another, they were still grinning, a light laugh on her lips as she squeezed at his back in their embrace. He didn’t remember pulling her into his arms, but it wasn’t important. _This_ was what he had been chasing in his life. _Happiness_.

 


	10. Rejection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Implied Alistair x Evelyn Cousland & Cullen x Aurelie Trevelyan  
> However, that's just because this story is about their children!

Duncan had been playing in the gardens, sneaking around rosebushes and jumping out to frighten random handmaidens. Bruce II, the family marabi trailed behind him expression just as playful as the young child. Fereldan’s Prince; son of King Alistair and Queen Evelyn; the castle’s little  _troublemaker_. He had been that way since he was able to walk and talk, following in the steps of his father.

It was another day in the garden for him, told to run off and play while his parents hosted guests from some…Inquisition? Duncan didn’t really pay attention. He was thirteen, not yet old enough to have interest in the politics and boring job of diplomacy. All he cared about was playing with his dog, causing some harmless trouble and eating all the cheese he could get his hands on.

He was running along the pathway when he passed by the water fountain, slowing when he noticed another child standing there, peering into the water. A girl, maybe his age, maybe not, he didn’t know, he didn’t recognize her. She was just as tall as him, blonde curls running past her shoulder and onto a simple dress, a fur coat wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hey.” He greeted, calling out to her.

The girl turned, batted her long eyelashes, and Duncan felt himself blush. Then he got embarrassed. He didn’t like girls—well, he  _did_ , but he didn’t want to admit it. Anytime a pretty woman or girl his age looked his way, he would get all flustered, and then have to deal with his father teasing him. The girl stayed silent, but her amber eyes searched his face, making him all the more nervous.

“What’s your name?” He asked before pointing to himself. “ _I’m_  Duncan. Theirin. You know? The Prince?” He pursed his lips when she only blinked, eyes trailing away, unimpressed. “ _Heyyy_.”

“You don’t recognize me?” Her voice sang like the sweetest honey. If he had known her, he was sure he’d remember it. Duncan laughed, shaking his head. The girl only rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Wait!” Duncan yelped, and she glanced back up, and he studied her face, narrowing his eyes as he tried to place her.  _Nope_. He sighed, admitting defeat. “Will you tell me?” he asked. The girl shook her head, a stubborn pout on her lips. But  _Maker_ , he smiled, she was pretty. And then, he told her. “What if I told you, you were pretty? The prettiest girl here in the castle?”

“Uhm.” She raised an eyebrow. “Kind of an insult to your mother, isn’t it?” She paused, pressing a finger to her lips. “ _And_  mine.” She sighed, not before winking at him. “Besides, my father tells me I’m  _beautiful_ , I know this already.”

Her nerve. Duncan frowned, before his mind finally clicked, remembering the guests that had arrived that morning. The Inquisitor, the woman who had helped his parents over a decade ago now. She had a daughter, and that daughter was right there, in front of him. The last time they met  _had_  to be before she sprouted the extra inches to be at his height.

“Eirlys!” He exclaimed. She was only a few years younger than him, but you wouldn’t guess that with how she looked. He felt like a fool. Before he could say anything else, he glanced around, an idea sparking in his mind. He had heard the sappy story so many times now; from his mother, from his father, from his uncles and nobles and…Duncan plucked a rose from the nearest bush, extending it outwards to her as his face heated up. It was an apology, but also, perhaps, a way to tell her how pretty she was again. “Do you…want to go play in the throne room? You can pretend to be princess?”

Eirlys briefly smiled, taking the rose between her thumb and index. She took a small inhale; fluttering her lashes once more in his direction. He wondered if she had been reading those sappy romance novels as well (he had by mistake once).

“No thank you.” She quipped, before turning, effectively leaving him there alone as she walked away, and a small spring in her step.

“Rejected, huh?” Duncan flinched at the sound of his father’s voice, glancing up to find not just his parents, but Eirlys’ as well. They were trying to hide their grins, but he saw the little smirk her mother wore. “Don’t worry son, she’ll come around. They always do.”

“They do  _not_.” His mother and the Inquisitor spoke at the same time. His dad laughed, joined in by Eirlys’ dad.

Duncan still frowned, but when he glanced up, he saw her from afar, her smile a little brighter as she winked in his direction.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Alistair x Evelyn Cousland

Evelyn had been enjoying her conversations with Alistair in camp as of late. The man had a way of making her laugh, of brightening her days that were typically filled with killing darkspawn. She would never admit it, not yet, but she was falling for her fellow Grey Warden, and a small part of her hoped he felt the same way. But it was too early in their friendship; she didn’t want to risk anything, especially when they had so much work to accomplish.

Her small group of companions had left Lothering not a few days prior, headed towards Redcliffe like Alistair suggested. They hadn’t run into  _too_  much trouble, but Evelyn had noticed a glum in Alistair’s usual chipper attitude. When they made camp, and after a mediocre diner had been served, she made to speak with him.

Alistair was sitting away from the campfire, at the outermost circle of the forest clearing. Her marabi Bruce was sitting with him, his muzzle rested over his legs. Evelyn couldn’t help but smile—even her dog liked him.

“Alistair?” She called as she drew closer. He lifted his head to steal a quick glance before looking back at Bruce, a pout full on his lips. If it didn’t concern her so much, she’d tell him it was cute. “Are you all right?” She asked next, voice low.

“Not  _real-ly_.” He mumbled. Evelyn swallowed her sudden bundle of nerves before moving to sit down next to him, leaving a little bit of space. Any closer and it would perhaps be  _too_  intimate. She took another glance at his profile and it wasn’t hard for her to guess what he was upset about.

“Do you want to talk about Duncan?” She asked softly. They hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk about the man that had saved them both. Alistair’s brows shot up as if he was surprised that she asked. He turned his head towards her, shaking his head once.

“You don’t have to do that. I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.” He sighed, offering a small pensive smile. Evelyn gave him a sympathetic expression.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t mourn his loss.” She retorted. Duncan had saved her from certain death. Her heart ached at the memory, but she pulled back her emotions. Alistair’s small smile returned, but his eyes remained downcast.

“Any of us could die in battle.” He explained. “I shouldn’t have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and…” He finally flicked his gaze up to her. “…and everything. I’m sorry.”

Evelyn smiled; amazed that he thought it was necessary to even apologize he had done nothing wrong. “No harm done, Alistair.”

She briefly bit on her bottom lip, loving the way his name tasted on her tongue. _Maker preserve her_ , her heart was pounding—they had never been so close _and_  alone before. Alistair’s expression lit up a little more and he turned slightly towards her. Bruce moved to lie between them.

“I’d…like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done? If we’re still alive. I think he was from Highever?” He knitted his brows in thought. “I don’t think he had any family to speak of.”

Evelyn moved without thought, reaching over to place her hand over his, slightly curling her fingers around his. She ignored the heat that pooled in her chest, but took notice of the tint of pink that adorned his cheeks.

“He had you.” She offered. Alistair’s smile turned coy, and he looked away, but squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. After a few moments of silence, he glanced back to her with questioning eyes.

“Have you…had someone close to you die?” He voice was soft, but then his expression dropped into mild panic as Evelyn widened her eyes. “Not that I mean to pry, I’m just…”

She was hesitant to say anything. After Alistair’s heartfelt talk about Duncan, she didn’t want to seem like she was encroaching on his grief. But her heart was still aching, body and soul still mourning the loss of her family. Alistair seemed to catch the sadness in her expression, and she flicked her gaze back to his when he squeezed her hand again. She had almost forgotten he had been holding it.

“I never told you, but…” Evelyn took in a shaky breath, already feeling the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “Before all this, before we met. My entire family was  _murdered_.” She clenched her jaw to avoid releasing the strangled cry that wedged in her throat. Alistair’s eyes widened, and he seemed to go still.

“ _What_?” He frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His expression dropped even further. “Maker’s breath, here I am complaining and moping about when—”

“It’s all right, Alistair.” Evelyn interrupted. She forced a small smile when he made to argue. “Arl Howe; he betrayed my parents, but my brother Fergus is still alive,  _somewhere_.” She evened out her breathing, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. Before she realized it, Alistair had done the same with his free hand and she froze, simply watching as he swept a thumb across her cheek to catch the tears.

“Sorry.” He snapped back his hand and Evelyn felt a heat spread across her cheeks. They avoided eye contact, but she smiled when she still felt his fingers wrapped around her own between them. “Uhm, anyways…” Alistair trailed, his free hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little.”

“Maybe…” Evelyn swallowed down the last of her emotions, focusing on the comfort Alistair was trying to offer. “Maybe I’ll go to Highever with you, when you go.”

He smiled, bashfully, eyes struggling to meet her gaze and instead dropping to where their hands were still linked. She gave him an encouraging squeeze and he finally lifted his head to stare at her.

“I’d—” Alistair gulped, blushing once more. “I’d like that.”


	12. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Alistair x Cousland

It was early morning, and as Alistair awoke, he could hear the sounds of birds chirping, a few muffled sounds of the castle help waking to get an early start. The sun was barely rising over the horizon, filling the royal chamber with a soft golden glow. He smiled, the flood of memories from the night before having him snap his vision to the occupied space beside him.

Evelyn, his beautiful wife, missing from his life and his bed for two years, had returned the night before. It had been a surprise, but a welcomed one, and his heart was surging with emotion, so  _happy_  to have her home. Right where she belonged. She slept curled against his chest, a soft smile on her features that ignited his excitement. Alistair hoped to always wake up to that smile, never wanting to go another day without it.

He ran his hand along her shoulder, rubbing affectionate circles along her bare skin. Her warmth was radiating, filling his soul with delight and the want to never leave their bed. With a sly smile, he kissed her brow, adjusting her so she rested on her back against the pillows. Alistair leaned over her, resting his weight on his elbows, stealing a downward glance at her nude body. There was just enough light for him to see, but he couldn’t wait to get a good look at her skin once the high-noon sun spilled into their chambers.

Alistair started at her forehead, pressing a soft kiss there after brushing her dark fringe away. Evelyn hummed in response, and he laughed at the fact she was still not a deep sleeper. He continued, kissing the side of her face, right below her eyes at the top of her cheeks before nuzzling his nose against hers.

“ _Alistair_.” She groggily spoke, her eyes fluttering open to catch his gaze. Her hands reached up to rest along his arms, and he pressed himself a little closer as she attempted to wriggle out from beneath him.

“Not so fast, my love.” He breathed, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not done reacquainting myself with you.”

Evelyn only giggled as he claimed her lips, her arms sliding further around his shoulders as he sunk himself closer to her, loving the way her skin felt against his. Alistair glanced back up to her face as he pulled away, adjusting his weight on one arm as he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. One of his fingers danced across the bridge of her nose and she raised a curious brow.

“This scar is new.” He pointed out. Evelyn nodded.

“Rather silly, really.” She spoke softly and he noted the embarrassed flush that lingered on her cheeks. “One of Leliana’s crows. I’m not used to handling them.” He tried not to laugh, instead pressing a kiss to her bottom lip, trailing further along her jaw towards the shell of her ear. There was another little scrape on the side of her neck, right below a love bite he had left the night before.

“And  _these_?” He teased, Evelyn rolling her eyes, but still holding an amused expression.

“Oh, a handsome suitor of mine, he  _ravaged_ me. I hoped you wouldn’t find it.” She laughed, and Alistair kissed along the outline, poking his tongue out to lick along the shell of her ear.

“I can leave more, if you’d like.” He whispered. “To replace them, that is.” He was never that good at playing any game they created, never being able to play any other role than her lover, her husband. Evelyn turned her head, catching his gaze.

“I’d like that.” She purred, and Alistair raised his brows before lowering his expression to match her sultry one. What a minx she could be, when she wanted to. Alistair shifted himself lower, trailing a sensual line with his lips and tongue until he reached her collarbone, finding a much more faded scar that curved towards her shoulder. “A skirmish with darkspawn. Broke through my armor. Nothing serious.”

Lower, along her side, Alistair ignoring the way her breasts heaved as he fanned his breath across them. Instead he kissed another silver scratch, one that curled upwards from her ribcage to her upper waist. He trailed his mouth upwards, finally taking the time to kiss along her breasts, drawing his lips around each nipple until they were pert, pearled beneath his tongue. Evelyn’s breath was more labored, her eyes hanging half-open as he teased, shifting himself lower across her body. Her hands slid across his back, fingers squeezing at the muscles of his shoulders in encouragement.

“And this one?” He asked next, kissing softly against a newer scar, one that was still red and in need of a healer’s attention if she did not want to be left with a mark. It rested across her hipbone, and when he lapped around the sensitive area, she gasped, arching herself closer to him. Alistair could only smile against her skin. “Evelyn?” He prompted.

“Oh.” She calmed herself with a hard blink. “Uhm, I did that hauling myself through the open window last night.”

Alistair pulled away, looking up at her in amazement, but also chuckling at her admission. Evelyn held a soft blush, and he smiled, kissing the mark once more.

“I love you.” He spoke softly, pushing himself back up to rest over her. Evelyn hugged him close, the two letting little moans of approval out as his newfound arousal brushed against her thigh. “I hope you’re alright with never leaving this bed again.” He somewhat joked. Evelyn only dropped her expression back into one of desire, her head tilting up to capture his lips.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	13. Pain

It started with a small hum in the base of his skull. A quiet ringing in his ears as he scribbled away, writing another report to be sent to Griffon Wing Keep. When the throbbing came, Cullen knew there was no way to avoid it. The headache came without warning, the pain more overwhelming than it had been as of late.

Since arriving in Skyhold, he had been free of the pain of withdrawal. He liked to believe, at least a little, that his blossoming relationship with the Inquisitor, Aurelie, was one of the reasons. It was because of the brief interlude of symptoms that he had yet to tell her, yet to confess his decision to quit taking Lyrium. He was so afraid of her opinion, that his admission would drive her far away, just when he had finally gotten close to her.

The ache ebbed for a moment as he reflected on their kiss, their first kiss on the battlements, and the warmth that had carried with him the rest of that day. She had been visiting more often since then, but they were still bashful, dancing around the subject like nervous teenagers. Nothing was official, and yet the barracks, and Skyhold itself was alive with speculation, rumors that the Lady Herald and Commander was an item.

The joy of those precious memories couldn’t stop the pain from spreading, the headache claiming his sight as the light in the room blurred his vision. Cullen brought a hand to his face, pressing his fingers against his temple as he lost all control. It was crippling him, consuming all his thoughts that he was so desperate to cling to.

“ _Cullen_?”

He winced, the sound of one of his doors opening a shrill scream in his ear. He ignored the intruder, hoping they’d seem him in his sorry state and just leave. But when there was only silence, followed by another call of his name, he suddenly realized—recognized the soft tone.  _Aurelie_. He peeked open his eyes, barely lifting his head to meet her gaze, though it was hard to make out anything but her eyes. Yet, they were like a beacon, shining in the foggy haze, willing him to find a way out.

“Cullen, are you alright?” She was rounding his desk, hands outstretched and he made to recoil, but found himself unable to. The pain was too great, and finally, he swallowed his pride.

“No.” He groaned, never expecting her to draw closer, softly touching his temples with cool hands.

Her fingers spread through his hair, nails softly scraping along his scalp. The action sent a shiver through him, and momentarily dulled the pain. How she knew, he couldn’t guess, but could ask her later. Aurelie stayed quiet, leaning against his desk before him, adjusting him so he rested his head against her as she gently rubbed circles along his temples.

“Aurelie, I—”

“Shhh.” She hushed him. “You can tell me later. Right now, just relax. I’m here Cullen. I’m not going anywhere.”


	14. Chapter 14

_The Lady Herald  
Inquisitor _ _~~Trevelyan~~ _ _Rutherford;_

_There will be no decorum: Your actions have deeply resonated within clan Trevelyan. You can only imagine the anger and disappointment—the shame you have brought upon this family. A marriage? To a common man—a fact your mother and I had to learn through hearsay and gossip like you were some common girl from the South._

_The audacity you had to elope without first consulting your family on the matter. A match had been made for you—long before you took up the helm of Inquisitor, long before you betrayed your virtue by bedding a disgraced Templar. Do not think for a moment we can ever forgive you for this indecent act of rebellion. Whatever you think to accomplish with this inconceivable, unblessed union—I hope it is worth the risk of losing your kin._

_Bann Richard Trevelyan_

* * *

 

To think Aurelie had been so happy to return to Skyhold. As blissful as her and Cullen’s impromptu honeymoon had been after their even more spontaneous marriage in Val Royeaux, she never liked being away for too long. Now she wished they had stayed just in that little bungalow in southern Orlais—  _anything_ to get away from the hollow feeling now taking over her heart.

She let out a sob, smacking her hand to her mouth to quiet the sounds. Behind her, Cullen was already shifting, pausing from unpacking his belongings to cross over to where she was, now bent over her desk as her grief took her. Aurelie never had a strong relationship with her family; it was a large brood of five older brothers and one older sister, and as the youngest, she wasn’t always in the forefront of her parent’s minds.

“Aurelie? Love?” Cullen turned her towards him in his arms, leaning down to catch her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

She handed over the letter, though all she wanted to do was throw it to the flames. Cullen’s expression dropped into one of anger as his eyes skimmed over the words and Aurelie felt a slight pang of guilt fill her. She had kept a lot of her family relations to herself, not wanting to drag him into the politics of high-society and the classism of Ostwick. But now, he was getting a full glimpse into what her life was like before the Inquisition.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered, hating the way they had insulted his name. Cullen’s brow softened as he glanced back to her, dropping the letter from his hands as he instantly pulled her in close, tucking her against his chest.

“ _No_. You should not apologize.” He breathed, and she could feel the way his heart was pounding in his chest, his pulse hard against her ear as she rested against his neck. “It is  _they_  who should be sorry.”

  
Aurelie was only half comforted by his words, the ache in her chest too great to be mended in the moment. It would take some time, but she knew, at least, she wasn’t alone. He would be her family now.


	15. Clouds

“I think that one looks like a  _bunny_!”

Eirlys held back her laughter as Duncan pointed towards the sky, his voice matching the excitement of a young child. The two had been enjoying the quiet afternoon in the royal gardens, free of chaperones and palace guards. Outstretched atop a grassy hill, separated by a few feet, they laughed together, making up shapes in the clouds above them. It was a rare thing for Duncan to be left alone, but he chose to spend that time with his visiting friend.

“How long will you be in Denerim?” He asked.

“We’ll be leaving again in a few days.” Eirlys’ voice dropped, and Duncan turned his head to catch her eyes still scanning the sky. “Mother knows how much I love it here, I don’t understand why she won’t let me stay.”

“She doesn’t trust me?” Duncan smiled when Eirlys chuckled under her breath.

Their friendship was close, as they had known each other for their entire lives now. It helped that their parents were also friends, and the pair traveled frequently between Skyhold and Denerim for regular visits. Eirlys had other siblings—three sisters in varying ages younger than her, but it was their close age that had them becoming fast and best friends. He wasn’t even this close with  _his_  siblings; then again, they were considerably younger than him—a sister at ten and a brother at seven.

“You  _are_  younger than me. Not of age yet.” He reminded her, continuing his train of thought.

While he had just turned eighteen, she was still a girl by most standards; only sixteen with one more year of studies to complete before she could chose her own path. By all accounts, she was planning to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Eirlys had hopes to become a diplomat, and advisor to the Inquisition, eventually taking over the role, if her mother wished to relinquish the role to her.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t chose to attend school in Fereldan…in Denerim.” She trailed, moving her hands to rest on her chest as she sighed. “I  _love_  Skyhold, but…it’s rather boring without anyone my age around.”

Duncan observed her profile, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as his nerves settled in. It was common for him when he spent time with Eirlys; even more so when they were alone. Over the years, his infatuation had become too strong to ignore, and he slowly realized he had fallen in love with his closest friend. A thought crossed his head, one that humored him, and he held back his laughter.

“You know, I’ll be needing a wife soon, with the whole  _King_  thing lingering over my head.” Duncan smiled wider when he noticed the slight way her eyes widened.

“What does that have to do with anything?” She asked, barely above a whisper. “You won’t inherit the throne for  _years.”_

Duncan shifted, leaning up on an elbow, staring down at her. Eirlys’ eyes slowly danced to meet his gaze, but she remained flat on her back on the grass, golden hair splayed above her like a halo.

“Well, if you became my betrothed—”

“ _Duncan Theirin!”_ Eirlys snapped herself up into a sitting position at his words, eyes wide and face flushed with color. She was staring at him in bewilderment, one hand reaching out to give him a playful push. He swayed slightly, but only laughed at her reaction.

“ _What_?” He whined, watching the way she tried to hide her smile, hands covering the blush on her cheeks for a moment. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? We’ve known each other _practically_  since you were born.” He paused to tilt his head to the side, smile sideways as he smirked at her. “And  _I_ know you’ve always had a crush on me.”

“I—I did,  _do_  not!” Eirlys argued, turning her head and gaze away. Duncan grinned, beside himself. For once  _he_  was the one making her flustered.

“You  _like_  me!” He sang, shuffling across the grass to tickle at her sides. Eirlys fought him for only brief moments before succumbing to laughter, throwing her head back as he wiggled his fingers along the sides of her waist. “Dare I say you  _love_  me?”

Eirlys was laughing so hard that the corners of her eyes sparkled with tears, her head shaking to-and-fro as she swatted at his hands.

“Duncan! Stop!  _Maker’s breath_!” She yelped through her laughter, and he relented, leaning back on his knees, watching as she sat back up, now wearing a breathless smile. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow.

“Well? It’s not  _such_  a terrible idea…is it?” He prompted. Eirlys went silent for a moment, and he could tell she was thinking…which gave him a little flutter of hope. The fact she was even _considering_ it made him smile.

“You—you’d have to ask my father.” Eirlys was still blushing, her bottom lip pulled up between her teeth. “ _And_  my mother.” She finished. Duncan only laughed, but eagerly scooted himself closer to her.

“Does that mean  _you_  agree?” He perked up his eyebrows in anticipation. “You’d actually marry me?” Eirlys face became an even darker shade of pink as she bashfully smiled, a few of her fingers trailing a line in the grass at her side. “You’d finally get to be a princess, just like you used to pretend.” He teased.

Eirlys moved to give him another playful smack, but her caught her wrist, wiggling his hand along it until their fingers laced together.

“Duncan.” Eirlys held his gaze, gulping softly at how when the laughter died away, they were left with perhaps an overly intimate moment,  _far_  beyond the playful teasing and flirting they were accustomed to. He wondered if it was appropriate to act upon the feelings he’d been harboring, hiding away out of fear of rejection.

“Eirlys.” He spoke her name, and flicked his eyes to her lips, and swallowed his nerves. He’d never kissed anyone before—but he hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone  _except_  for Eirlys anyways. “In hindsight, I should’ve told you a long time ago, before…erm…proposing?”

“I’ve known.” Her whisper had him widening his eyes again, his heartbeat growing faster in his chest. What did she mean? Eirlys laughed softly, her hand slowly moving to his free one so that both their hands were laced together. “A woman  _always_  knows.” She smiled. When Duncan remained stunned into silence, she leaned closer. “But it wouldn’t help to  _actually_ say it.”

“What?  _Oh_!” Duncan blinked a few times to regain his train of thought before allowing what was probably a stupid grin spread across his face. “Eirlys Rutherford, you’re my best friend.” He watched as her eyes sparkled, lips parting slightly in anticipation. “And, well, I’ve fallen in lo-“

She didn’t wait to tug him close—kissing him firmly on the lips as he let out a short yelp of surprise. It was brief, and over before Duncan could even register what was happening. With a giggle, Eirlys pulled away, shifting herself to stand up and dust at the tuffs of grass along her skirts. Duncan could only stare up at her in wonder, his heart aflutter as his body went warm.

“Talk to my parents.” She reminded him, her smile going coy once more as she tucked her hair back into place. “ _Soon_.”

He didn’t need any more hints—he heard her loud and clear.


End file.
